


Hazy Shade of Winter

by WaxAgent



Series: Lovesong [5]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alluded Infidelity, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, College, Drug Abuse, Established Relationship, M/M, Making Out, Multi, Polyamory, a severe failure to communicate, lots of interrupted foreplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-04 19:53:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12778305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaxAgent/pseuds/WaxAgent
Summary: It seems like Richie's never home, and the winters in Seattle are freezing, and Eddie doesn't know what the hell he's doing anymore.It's not the fantasy they thought it'd be, but they try to make it work anyway.





	1. The Ghost In You

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place around three years after "Six Different Ways."
> 
> The year is 1997-1998. Eddie is twenty three and Richie is twenty one.
> 
> Cheers, bbs <3

Bundled up in the frigid apartment that he shared with his boyfriend and his best friend, Eddie Kaspbrak took a tally; two pairs of socks, corduroy pants, an undershirt, t-shirt, sweater, _and_ Richie’s hoodie, fingerless gloves, and a beanie. A scarf, and a heating pad. One blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He wrote furiously fast, scribbling down notes and annotating them in his own shorthand, the letters neat and crisp, never varying from perfection. He was writing an essay that he thought he would title “A Queer Perspective; Reading into the Canon of Horror and Romance”, but the only thought in his head was; _I’m going to freeze to death, here, in my very own home_. 

Bill stumbled out of his bedroom, bleary in the Sunday morning chill. His messy auburn hair implied that he’d just woken up, but he was already dressed in a hoodie, jeans, and thick slippers. He rubbed his upper arms and grimaced at Eddie. “Morning. C-cold, huh?”

“Yep,” Eddie said tightly. 

“Any coffee?”

“No. Richie didn’t put any on before he left.”

“When did he leave?” Bill yawned, making his way over to their kitchen. “I was up until three.”

“I got up at five thirty,” Eddie frowned. “I don’t know. You think he didn’t come home again?”

“Dunno,” Bill mused, loud enough for Eddie to hear him from the other room. “Want me to p-put the teapot on?”

“No thanks,” Eddie mumbled, tapping his pencil against his notepad. He felt distracted and vaguely worried. “How many nights does that make in December? Like…twelve?”

“You know I don’t keep track,” Bill said. His voice was soft and Eddie looked up to see him leaning in the doorway to their cozy little kitchen, his face pinched in a frown. “And I know that you d-do keep track. So…is it twelve nights or not?”

“Last night makes thirteen, actually,” Eddie said softly.

“If you don’t like it, talk t-to him. Tell him to stop working double shifts.”

“He won’t,” the unspoken truth of ‘ _if Richie stops working doubles then we can’t afford rent_ ’ stuck to the back of his tongue, tacky and bitter. “And it’s not like we never see each other. I can’t imagine going through what you do.”

Bill smiled, a fond sort of sadness written over his handsome face. “Yeah, well. One boyfriend n-nine hundred miles away and the other over three thousand, it’s not exactly a picnic.”

“Picnics are overrated, Bill,” Eddie said, and Bill laughed. “And the talk of them comes with much warmer weather--” 

The front lock clicked and the door creaked as it swooshed open, nudged in by Richie’s foot. “What’s up ass clowns?” He bellowed, almost as if the supersonic waves of Eddie’s worry had been some cue. He blew into the apartment with two bags of groceries and a red nose, grinning, in only his ratty leather coat and converse chucks; no gloves, hat, or scarf. 

“You’re going to get sick and you have no health insurance,” Eddie said pointedly. Richie smirked and kicked off his wet sneakers. He set the grocery bags down by the door and Eddie cringed. “Don’t do that! There’s food in there.”

“Can’t your working stiff of a boyfriend have two seconds to greet the love of his life?”

“You can take as many seconds as you want once the groceries are put in the kitchen.” Richie huffed and rolled his eyes. He picked up the bags and carted them into the kitchen, handing one off to a laughing Bill. Eddie watched him drop the other bag unceremoniously onto the counter and rush back into their livingroom. He lifted up the corner of his blanket and Richie crawled underneath it with him, picking up Eddie’s books and notes and setting them aside. Eddie slid a hand back into Richie’s hair and they kissed slowly. 

“Mmm,” Richie pulled Eddie onto his lap and stretched back languidly. “Good morning, sweetpea.”

“Morning,” Eddie said softly. He kissed over the constellation of freckles that adorned his boyfriend’s nose. “You didn’t come home last night.”

Richie shook his head. “No, I thought I left you a note; I worked at the bar until four and then had to be at the café at a quarter to five.”

“You didn’t leave anything,” Eddie said. He ran his fingers over Richie’s cheeks. “You’re working too hard. It’s showing.” Richie looked ragged; his eyes were bloodshot and foggy, too wide, and his fingers were twitchy. They could pack for a week’s vacation with the bags under his eyes. 

“Thanks, baby. You’re pretty too.” 

Eddie glared. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“I get the best tips on Saturday nights at the bar. I can’t just give up a shift; especially not if you ever want to turn the heat above fifty-five degrees in here.” 

“I could take more tutoring gigs,” Eddie said. 

Richie shook his head again adamantly. “No way, José, you just focus those sweet brains on becoming a doctor and making me a very comfortable trophy husband.”

“A doctorate in psychology and women’s studies with an emphasis on queer culture is NOT going to keep us comfortable, trust me,” Eddie smiles. “But being a famous _actor_ , maybe on _Broadway_ , maybe being in a band with a platinum record and an international tour--“

Richie cut Eddie off with a laugh, brushing their lips together. “Oooh, somebody wants to ride this gravy train to the finish line, huh?” 

“Mmm, it’s a very sexy train,” Eddie smiled, letting their mouths linger. The contact between them sparked a low, aching urgency inside of Eddie; it had been weeks. “Richie,” he mumbled, tilting his head. “Kiss me, okay?”

“Fuck yes,” Richie breathed, long hands cupping Eddie’s face. Eddie winced at the chill. “Ahh, shit, hang on,” Richie breathed into his hands and rubbed them together vigorously before trying again, sliding his chapped lips over his boyfriend’s. Eddie sighed and shifted in his lap and Richie’s hands found his hips loosely. 

“Thanks,” Eddie said, nearly lost in the feeling of being kissed breathless. He slid his hands up to Richie’s chest and frowned. “Rich,” he pulled back. “Are you okay?”

“Great, actually,” Richie blinked. “Why?”

“Your heart is racing. I mean, really. It feels like you’re gonna have a heart attack.” 

“I’m feeling great,” The corner of Richie’s lips twitched into a grin. “Fantastic. Who needs sleep?” He buried his face into Eddie’s neck and hugged him tightly. 

“Everybody does, Richie.”

“Who needs anything but Eddie Kaspbrak?”

Eddie hugged Richie back, strumming his fingers through Richie’s curls. “I’m worried about you,” he said quietly. “I can’t remember the last time you fell asleep with me.”

“Don’t be a worrywart, Eds. I’m working a lot, plus rehearsal for the show and band practice and class--“

“Richie, I miss you,” Eddie looked up at him. “I miss you all the time.”

Richie licked over his bottom lip, and unreadable expression on his face. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry, Eds. Christmas is over, but we’re still on break, baby, we have plenty of time. New Year’s Eve tomorrow and Bill…” Richie hesitated, and both men peeked back into the kitchen. They could see the back of Bill there, making breakfast and humming to himself. Richie turned back to Eddie, grinning. “Bill’s birthday surprise. I almost forgot.”

“How could you forget?”

“The show goes up in two weeks, babe, I’m distracted. Everything still a go?” 

“Yes,” Eddie grinned. “Yes. It’s all taken care of. It goes down later today.”

“Thank God, because the suspense is killing me.” Richie leaned up and dipped their lips together. “Mmmn, speaking of suspense, wiggle a little on my lap, will you?”

“Richie.”

“Christ, I’m so pent up, I could come just from you glaring at me over groceries. How are you even handling this?”

“I’ve been masturbating,” Eddie said simply. 

“Yeah, you…wait,” Richie blinked and stared up at Eddie. “Come again, now?”

“Masturbating,” Eddie said slowly, enunciating every syllable. “You know. Touching myself. Thinking of you.”

Richie sucked in his bottom lip and breathed out heavily through his nose. “Yeah?”

“Mmhm,” Eddie nodded. He rocked his hips innocently and leaned forward. “I get three fingers deep, you know,” he whispered into Richie’s ear. Richie shuddered hard beneath him, digging his fingers into Eddie’s hips. “But all I can think of is how I’d rather have you instead to fill me up.”

“Fuck…such a bad, naughty, _filthy_ thing to say, Eddie,” Richie said softly. He ran his fingers underneath Eddie’s shirt, his freezing fingers making Eddie shiver, goosebumps erupting over his skin. “God, you’re so hot.”

“And you’re freezing,” Eddie grimaced. “Come to bed.”

“Bill’s birthday--“

“We have two and a half hours,” Eddie whispered. “I want you inside of me, Rich, _please_. I’ll beg you,” he licked a long line down Richie’s neck and Richie moaned roughly, rolling his hips up into Eddie’s. “I’ll beg you down on my knees if that’s what you want.”

“Well, how can I really argue,” Richie grinned and stood abruptly, yanking Eddie up over his shoulder. Eddie let out a shriek of laughter and grabbed their blanket, wiggling in Richie’s arms. “Bye Bill!” Richie slammed the door to the bedroom shut behind him, leaving Bill cackling in the kitchen. 

“Alright,” Richie whispered in the dark peacefulness of their room. “Let’s get down to business, baby,” he grinned and lifted Eddie up. Eddie squeaked when Richie dumped him onto the bed and kissed his neck. “Mm, goddamn. You use my shampoo again?”

“More often than not,” Eddie grinned, exposing his neck. Something caught at the corner of his vision and he frowned; clutching the sheets to stay upright over Eddie, Richie’s hands were knotted into the comforter beneath them, shaking. “Mm, hey,” he tilted his head and caught Richie’s lips with his own, gentle and sweet. “How about…you take a nap, instead?”

“But my darling lover boy needs me,” Richie murmured into Eddie’s neck. “A very specific piece of me.”

“He needs you not to drop dead more than that,” Eddie whispered. He tilted his head and caught Richie’s temple with a gentle press of his lips. “It’s gotta have been almost two days since you laid down, ‘Chee. Sleep.”

Richie peaked up at his boyfriend through his dark, disheveled curls. “…Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, sweet god in heaven, thank you,” Richie groaned, his face still pressed against Eddie’s neck. “Thank you, _thank you_ , for blessing me with Eddie. Whatever sins I haven’t committed yet, I’ll try to avoid them.”

“I think you need a nap more than I need you to fuck me right now,” Eddie said. He guided Richie fully onto the bed, soothing his arms and rubbing his chest. “Just relax. We have a little time for you to just exist in one spot.”

Richie smiled up at Eddie. He took off his glasses, a pair of well-protected tortoise shell frames, and set them on the nightstand. “How’s your paper going, baby? I feel like I haven’t seen you in days. ”

“It’s good,” Eddie yawned, blinking at Richie. He laid down beside the taller man, resting his head against his shoulder. “There’s so much to an informed, queer reading of modern literature and cinema. You know, once you start looking for it, it’s everywhere.”

Richie kissed Eddie’s forehead. “Sounds like it’s right up your gay little alley.”

Eddie laughed. “Yeah, well. How’s rehearsal?”

“We’re ready,” Richie said. “First dress is the night after tomorrow, if you wanna come watch. You’ll like it; Rent is even gayer than your paper.”

“I know I’ll like it, I’ve been hearing you sing it for two months,” Eddie smiled. “I can’t wait.”

Richie nodded, his eyes closed. “Mmhm,” he mumbled. Eddie smiled softly. He kissed Richie’s cheeks, and his forehead, his chin, and his mouth. Richie kissed him back softly, cracking his eyes open. “How much time?” 

“An hour until you should get up, but an hour and a half before it’s an emergency,” Eddie said softly. “Nap. I’ll set an alarm.”

“You sure,” Richie said, his eyes already closed. He looked thin, Eddie realized suddenly. Too thin for somebody who had always been on the border between being lean and skinny. 

“Yes,” Eddie whispered. He stroked Richie’s curls back gently. “When I wake you up, you can have a shower and a cigarette and coffee, I’ll make you lunch. A perfect day, okay?”

Richie breathed out, nodding. Eddie didn’t set an alarm. He read in bed while Richie slept; flipping through the pages of a romance novel quietly and listening to the subdued, gentle sounds of his lover’s breathing, he wondered if there had ever been a better sound.

Richie woke up on his own in thirty-seven minutes, disoriented and dazed. “Hey,” Eddie set his book down and kissed him. “You wanna sleep for another hour?” 

Richie shook his head. He turned his head and coughed, wiping his mouth. “No. Shower.” He stood and stumbled, groggy, and cracked his neck and his back. 

“Richie, you can go back to bed.”

“Psssh, Eds, come on,” Richie smiled thinly. “I feel like a new man.” He stumbled over to his dresser and yanked out fresh clothing, rummaging absently through his sock drawer. He held the clothing tight to his chest in a bundle, like he was smuggling treasure, and left. Eddie gazed after him long past his leaving, listening to the shower running in the adjacent bathroom, feeling an observation tickle the back of his mind; one that he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, chase just yet.

***

After Richie’s shower, he really did seem like he had a new lease on his day. He was vibrating with energy, loose and carefree. He slugged back three mugs of coffee with a shot of whiskey apiece and drank two glasses of water. Eddie noticed, with some disdain, that he only ate a little over half of a sandwich. 

“Today is a Very Special Day,” Richie whispered to Eddie, furtively eyeing Bill across the apartment. He flopped down onto the couch and snuggled into his lover, skittering his fingers over the blankets separating them. “So...” He buried his face into Eddie’s throat, kissing him up and down, grinning while Eddie giggled. “What do you say…we turn the heat up…to seventy? My treat.”

“Oh God,” Eddie groaned, laughing. “That’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard you say, fuck, Richie, just do me right now.”

Richie cackled, bouncing off of the couch to attack the thermostat. “I know this thing loves me,” Richie said, cranking up the temperature. “Because I’m the only one that touches her.” 

“Heat’s expensive,” Eddie said petulantly. His smile lingered all the same. 

“It’s the only bill you pay, Eds!”

“Yes, and it’s _expensive_. And I buy groceries.”

“You eat like a bird, Daddy’s freezing to death and you’re pinching the purse strings--“

“Don’t call yourself ‘Daddy’, Richie, oh my God.”

“Why?” Richie turned around, grinning, and ran a hand down his front. “Turns you on?”

Eddie shook his head, laughing. “Not fucking hardly. Come over here and get in if you’re so cold.”

“My master plan!” Richie swept back onto the couch, worming his way into Eddie’s nest of blankets. “Mmm, now, my master reward,” He kissed Eddie tenderly, his lips parted just enough that Eddie could feel a whisper of his tongue. Eddie shivered and leaned in, kissing Richie back, gliding his hand over Richie’s side.

“Mmn,” Richie smirked. He reached down with both hands and hiked Eddie’s legs up around his waist and Eddie groaned, arching his chest. “You’re so responsive…” He trailed one hand up Eddie’s thigh and his pelvis, sliding it underneath all of Eddie’s layers to rest against his stomach. “I can feel you getting hard for me,” Richie murmured, and he slowly rocked his hips against Eddie’s. “It’s so fucking hot.”

Eddie bit his bottom lip. “If you…If you want to feel it with your hand, I wouldn’t mi--“

“Did we turn the heat up?” Bill’s head shot out of his room. “Is this real? Oh,” he grimaced at the entwined couple on the couch. “I’m s-sorry. My bad.”

“No, no, no!” Eddie said. He sat up and pulled Richie with him, almost unbearably happy to feel his boyfriend’s body pressed against him in any capacity, sex or no. “We’re not--“

“We’re not looking to bone down, you know, right now, but I still like to check the oil, make sure the motor’s runnin’ good,” Richie smirked as Eddie flushed, pressing a hand to his face. 

“Yeah, s-so,” Bill leaned against his doorframe, grinning. “Motor runs? Even in this temperature?”

“Sweet Bill, this motor purrs like a kitten,” Richie said solemnly. He laughed, unable to keep a straight face and Bill laughed with him. Eddie felt giddy; he wrapped his arms around Richie’s neck and kissed his cheek.

“Yes, Bill, by the way,” Eddie said, smiling over Richie’s shoulder. “The heat is up. It’s a New Year’s miracle.”

“Yessir, happy early birthday, Billiam!” Richie crowed. “Because this is all you’re getting for your whole birthday week; a warm apartment.”

It was probably a mark of Richie and Eddie’s shitty gift giving that Bill looked genuinely touched. “That’s all I need,” he said. “Thanks guys.”

“No problem, Big Bill,” Eddie said. “Wanna cuddle puddle?”

“Hell yes I do,” Bill jumped onto the couch on top of Richie. Richie laughed and yanked Bill underneath the covers. He slid a thin arm around Bill’s waist and kissed his cheek. Eddie giggled and pulled Bill down to press their lips together gently.

“Finally,” Richie sighed. “Am I getting that threesome I’ve always wanted? A belated Christmas gift, mayhaps?”

“Not on your life,” Eddie said sweetly. He dipped his head back and kissed Richie softly, smiling when Richie ran curious fingers up the front of his throat. 

Richie broke off with a little smirk and turned his head, catching Bill’s lips with his own in a quick smack. “I’m just saying, fellas, body heat’s the only surefire way to keep warm in these tough times, and between the three of us, we run pretty _hot_ \--“

“Beep beep,” Bill said. He was laughing, his shoulders quaking with it. “But I wouldn’t mind watching a m-movie or something.” He leaned his head back against Richie’s shoulder and Richie kissed his hair, smiling. 

“’S your birthday week,” Richie said. “What do you wanna watch?”

“The Thing.”

Eddie grimaced. “Can we watch a movie that’s less horrifically scary?”

“Well, nobody really wants to watch Sixteen Candles or The Labyrinth again, Eds. I get jealous when you drool over Bowie’s bulge.” 

“Aw,” Eddie smirked, raising one eyebrow. “Poor Richie, so fragile.”

Richie pulled Eddie in against Bill and snuggled behind them. He pressed kiss after kiss into Eddie’s hair and Eddie closed his eyes, smiling. “Besides, I bet you could use The Thing in your paper, right? There’s something in there for you. I just know it.”

“I don’t know about that, Richie,” Bill said. 

Looking scandalized, Richie slapped a hand over his heart dramatically. “Big Bill, I am the gayest motherfucker this side of the Mississippi and I can tell you. The Thing is gay. Super gay. And as for the motherfucker thing, you know, that’s literal, you can ask sweet Sonia--“

“RICHIE.” 

“I f-feel like you can’t say you’re gay and then talk about sc-screwing Eddie’s mom in the same sentence like that.”

“Don’t kinkshame me, please,” Richie said solemnly. “Besides, she tastes just like her son--“ Eddie swung a pillow into Richie’s face and thought, genuinely, about suffocating him with it. Beside them, Bill was howling with laughter, his face pleasantly flushed. He took the pillow from Eddie, squeezing his hands.

“N-no murder right before my birthday, please.”

Eddie groaned. He squinted at Bill and Richie. “…If we do The Thing--“

“I’d honestly LOVE to do the thing, now we’re talkin’--“

“Can it, Rich! If we watch it, nobody picks on me if I look away. Nobody laughs. And nobody tries to jump out and scare me later when I’m all amped up.”

“Of c-course,” Bill said.

Eddie stared at Richie, and Richie stared back. “I said,” Eddie repeated. “Nobody tries to jump out and scare me later when I’m all amped up.”

“Yes,” Richie said. “I heard you.”

“Okay, so agree.”

“Yeah, baby, I said I heard you.”

“No, Richie, you have to promise--“ The doorbell rang; Richie and Eddie locked eyes. Richie’s whole face was lit up like Christmas, and Eddie bit his bottom lip, his cheeks flushed. Suddenly, he didn’t feel cold at all, and being scared felt as remote a possibility as moving to Mars. 

“Bill,” Eddie said. “Get that?”

“No way,” Bill said. “It’s fuh-freezing. If one of you idiots ordered pizza, you get it.”

“I…have…a huge boner right now,” Eddie lied brightly. Bill shot him a terribly bizarre look. “I’m practically drilling a hole through my pants, so, uh, I’ll pass.”

Bill turned to Richie, brows furrowed, and Richie leapt off of the couch and darted into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. “Richie!”

“Taking a shit!” Richie hollered back. Eddie snort-laughed and covered his face, giggling. 

“Fuck you g-guys,” Bill grumbled. He tucked his hands into his armpits, got up, and walked to the front door, wrenching it open. “How much do we…owe…” He stopped; Eddie could see his profile, illuminated by the late afternoon. He was stunned, his face slack. Eddie looked over to see Richie peeking out of the bathroom, silent, his face eager.

“O-o-o-oh,” Bill stuttered, his hands trembling over his mouth. He stepped back, and winter wind whistled into the apartment, but Bill didn’t shiver. 

Stan stepped into the apartment, a hat wrenched down low over his ears, and Mike followed shortly behind him; both of their faces were blustery with cold. Mike was beaming from ear to ear, a blush washed over his cheeks. Stan was more reserved in his smile, but his eyes were radiantly joyful. 

“ _Oh_ ,” Bill whimpered, his eyes filling up with tears. “Oh-oh-o-o--“

“Hey,” Mike said softly. He dropped a duffel bag on the floor and opened his arms. “Happy birthday.” Bill let out a strangled sob and rushed into Mike’s arms. They clung together, Bill shaking, Mike rubbing back over his shoulders. He cupped Bill’s face and kissed him and Bill let out a choked, heart wrenching sound. He pressed Mike into the doorframe and kissed him desperately, arching up onto his toes. Mike sighed and parted his lips. He stroked both of his hands back through Bill’s shaggy auburn hair. 

Stan rolled his eyes and grinned. He nudged the door closed with his foot. “Hey, guys,” he waved to Richie and Eddie, and then his arms were suddenly full of Bill. “Hey, Billy.” He hugged the other man tightly, kissing his forehead and temple. “I missed you so much.”

Richie looked over at Eddie. “Mission accomplished?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “Mission very accomplished.” 

“Y-y-you,” Bill turned to look at Eddie and Richie. His face was red and tear streaked. “You d-d-d--“

“Sure did,” Richie said. He sat back down onto the couch and pulled Eddie into his arms. Eddie snuggled into his chest, looking up at his boyfriend with a soft gaze. “It was Eddie’s idea, I’m just the handsome financier.” 

“We know it’s been a while,” Eddie said. “It’s been--“

“Over a y-year,” Bill said. His face crumpled again and he buried it against Stan’s neck. “I was starting to forget what you looked like--!”

“Us too,” Mike admitted quietly. “It got harder, every day. I miss the both of you so much some times, it’s like a knife in my chest.”

“Mikey,” Richie said. “I missed you too man, wow, I’m touched.”

“Beep beep, Richie,” Stan said, kissing Bill’s hair. Bill looked at him and Stan caught his lips against his own, gently holding Bill’s chin between his index finger and his thumb.

“I did miss you, Rich,” Mike says. He kicked off his shoes and turned to the couch. Richie met him halfway in a huge, tight hug. “I miss you both, obviously.”

“You too, Mikey,” Richie says softly. They parted and Eddie was right behind Richie, leaping into Mike’s strong arms. It felt good to hug him, to be squeezed by him. The five of them in one room, together again, felt like coming home.

 _Seven_ , a voice at the back of Eddie’s mind whispered. _There were seven of you. Lucky Seven. It only works if there’s seven_. Eddie pushed the thought away with mild confusion and maximum irritation. Seven? Who else could he possibly have missed?

“All together, huh,” Eddie said, kissing Mike’s cheek, and part of his stomach roiled and churned at the thought.

Who in the world could he have missed, when all of the most important people in his life were in the same room as him?


	2. Tainted Love

It had been so long since Eddie had woken up beside Richie that he had almost forgotten the feel of it, had almost lost the sense of the peace and serenity that he found balled up in his boyfriend’s arms and tucked into his warmth. Richie was curled along his back, his face pressed into Eddie’s hair and his arm flung around his waist. The alarm clock on their nightstand blinked a cheery ‘9:13’ at them, the red light reflecting off of the lenses of Richie’s folded glasses. 

Eddie wiggled around, coasting his hands up Richie’s chest and kissing his chin. Richie blinked awake and yawned, tugging Eddie in against his chest. 

“Morning Rich,” Eddie said softly, his heart totally full. He sat up and Richie moved his head into Eddie’s lap, his curls fanned out over the petite man’s thigh. 

“Fuck, I love these legs,” Richie said, his voice hoarse. He tilted his head and pressed a series of tender, deep kisses to the skin of Eddie’s inner thigh. Eddie shivered, stroking Richie’s hair. “Love waking up to these legs, what a treat. Mmm,” He rolled back over, a hand clasped over his eyes. His shirt rode up, and Eddie felt his eyes irresistibly drawn to the expanse of pale skin between his shirt and his boxers. “Any aspirin on the nightstand, lover?” 

“No, but I can get you some,” Eddie said. He made to stand but Richie shook his head and pulled Eddie down instead, kissing him. 

“Two more minutes,” Richie whispered, kissing just off of Eddie’s mouth. Eddie shook his head, a little smile playing on his lips. “Fuck, let me put my mouth all over you.”

“You drive a very hard bargain,” Eddie murmured. 

Richie looked at him, his eyes hot. “Let me make love to you,” He said. His voice was soft and urgent, his hands cupped around Eddie’s face. “Baby, fuck…I miss you.” He kissed Eddie, tender and deep, and Eddie sighed. He wrapped his arms around Richie. “I need to be with you.”

“Let me get you aspirin and water first. Then you can have me however you want to,” Eddie looked at Richie with half lidded eyes and Richie looked back at him, pouting. He smiled and raised his chin to kiss Richie and the taller man kissed him back belligerently, rolling his eyes.

“You know I can’t resist you when you call me baby. Gimme sixty seconds to change your mind?”

“You can’t resist me, ever, and no.” Eddie wiggled out of Richie’s grasp and hissed when his toes met the icy floor. He tugged on Richie’s favorite purple sweatshirt- it was baggy on Richie, and practically a dress on Eddie- and walked over to the door. He was gratifyingly aware of the other man’s gaze stuck to his bare thighs like glue. 

“Why not?” Eddie turned back around; Richie was sitting up, his t-shirt twisted all around. His hair was a wild halo and his eyes were fond; the image was only ruined by the way he kneaded at one temple with his fingertips, and by the pained twist between his eyebrows. 

Eddie smiled. “Because I can’t resist you either.” Richie grinned wolfishly and Eddie let himself outside of their room, unable and unwilling to cover the beaming smile on his face.

The living room and kitchen were far warmer than their bedroom and Eddie sighed as he gently closed the door behind him. Mike poked his head out of the kitchen and smiled.

“Morning, Eddie. You drink coffee?”

“No, but I’ll show you where the stuff is for it. Stan…Stan doesn’t take coffee, right?”

“No, just tea. You have any?” 

“Mmhm, here,” Eddie scooted to stand beside Mike, stretching up onto his tiptoes to reach into a high cabinet. He tugged at the tea with his fingertips and inched it down. “And the kettle’s in the warming drawer, under the stove, if you’d be so kind.” 

“I like your place,” Mike said as he rummaged for the kettle. “Beans?” 

“Ground ones ontop of the fridge; you’ll have to get it, I can’t reach. And thank you,” Eddie accepted the kettle from Mike and ran it under the tap. He rinsed it twice before filling it to the brim. He set the kettle aside gingerly and reached up again, grabbed a glass, and filled it. “And the tea is there for you, but Bill and I only drink Earl Grey.”

“Earl Grey is perfect,” Mike hummed. He turned and hip checked Eddie lightly and Eddie giggled, looking up at his friend. “Thanks, by the way. For bringing us out here to see him.”

“No! No, it’s no trouble,” Eddie smiled, pulling mugs out of the cabinet and setting them on the counter in a neat line. “We were happy to do it.”

“Seriously,” Eddie turned; Mike’s eyes were intent and full of emotion. “Not just for Bill and Stan, but…for me. You can’t possibly know what this means to me.”

“I do,” Eddie said. He squeezed Mike’s hand briefly. “I really do.”

“Alright,” Mike nodded, smiling bashfully. “We’re all getting up, so, see you soon? Still want to all hang out today? Bill really wants to go ice skating and we’re down to double date--”

“Mike, hey,” Stan poked his head out of Bill’s room. He was shirtless and flushed. “Get in here, _now_.” He disappeared back into Bill’s room without another word.

“Um, I,” Mike blushed and rubbed the back of his head. “I should…go.” 

“You should,” Eddie beamed. “We’ll be out soon too.” With one quick pit stop in the bathroom for two little tablets of aspirin, Eddie headed back into the room he shared with Richie. He heard Mike rushing into Bill’s behind him, the door slamming and Bill’s exasperated groan through the paper thin walls; it sounded like “ _F-fucking finally, Mikey_.”

“Hey,” Richie said hastily and Eddie turned his attention to him, eyes wide. “Look away if you’re feeling squeamish.” A ball of tissues was bundled up under his nose and Eddie stepped back on reflex; the tissues were red and spotty. 

“Oh my God, Richie! What happened?”

“Nosebleed, nothing serious,” Richie waved, mopping up under his nose and sniffling. “I’ve been getting them all winter, you know that. It’s just so fucking dry in here.” 

“Baby,” Eddie set the water down but stayed warily close to the door. “Do you…can I get you…”

“Chill, sweetpea,” Richie grinned roguishly, lowering the tissues. He tapped his feet on the floor and hopped up. “Guess this totally kills the mood, but I’m fine. Just gonna shower this off.” When Eddie opened his mouth to speak Richie cut him off with a laugh and a shake of his head. “I know, no smooches; you hate the blood. I’m unoffended.” He blew a kiss to Eddie and Eddie, grinning despite himself, pretended to catch it. “Cute!” Richie cooed, practically jumping over to get fresh clothes. “So fucking precious, oh my God.”

“Well, take your aspirin,” Eddie said, but Richie shook his head. 

“I’m actually feeling much better,” he said. “Must just be the sight of your sweet face.” He winked at Eddie and left the room, humming to himself. “Awh, somebody set up coffee for li’l ol’ me?” Eddie heard him shout. “Shouldn’t have.”

* * *

“I’m sorry,” Stan deadpanned. “But whoever decided ‘Hey, let’s weld knives to our shoes so that we can glide around on frozen water’ gets the award for worst idea ever.”

“To be fair,” Bill grinned. “They probably didn’t think about the idea of ice skating as a double date back when sk-skates were invented.” Stan glowered at his boyfriend; he was rigidly cemented between Mike and Bill, wobbly and pissed, and glaring at every single child that skated past him. Eddie in particular seemed to be earning his ire today; the much shorter man looked like he was born on the ice, and he weaved through his friends with a delicate and disciplined grace that made Richie stare and Mike clap approvingly. 

“They also didn’t weld back then,” Eddie said innocently as he whizzed past Stan for the fourth time.

“Oh, fuck you Eddie, quit showing off,” Stan snapped. Eddie laughed. 

“I’m not showing off, I’m having _fun_ ,” Eddie smirked. “You should try it.”

Mike gently pulled Stan away from Bill and held his waist. “You’re trying to hard to walk,” he coached his boyfriend gently. “Just use a little bit of force and some balance, and let yourself glide.”

“Yeah Stanny,” Richie simpered, skating backwards with an obscene grin on his face. “Just _glide_.” 

Stan fumed and Bill leaned in to kiss him softly, his bright smiled melting away Stan’s annoyed expression. “You d-don’t have to be good, I’m just…I’m happy you’re here.”

“And I’m happy,” Richie said softly when he caught up to Eddie. “That your pants are that fucking _tight_ , Jesus Christ, baby.” 

“They’re lycra, not pants.”

“Yeah; I’m a red-blooded American male and I know that lycra means ‘spandex’,” Richie took Eddie’s hips gently in his hands and sailed along behind him for a few moments. 

“It’s good for skating,” Eddie said, looking up at Richie; Richie was already looking down at him with a smile stretched over his lips, and Eddie blushed. “I get a full range of motion. It prevents injury to the joints, Rich, and I’m not being indecent; I’m wearing _your_ sweatshirt, it covers everything that only _you_ should be seeing--“

“You look gorgeous,” Richie said simply. He squeezed Eddie’s hips and moved to link their hands, twining their fingers. “You’re actually incredibly fucking breathtaking. And your leg warmers give me a goddamn boner.”

Edie snorted, laughing, and squeezed Richie’s hand. He felt a thin ridge of scar tissue against his palm and wondered when Richie sliced his palm, and why hadn’t Eddie noticed it before? He filed it away to ask Richie about, later on. It made something twitch in the back of his mind and he sighed, brushing away the obnoxious feeling of forgetting something.

“I can’t listen to you talking about boners right now because if the condition’s contagious, well, I’m in trouble,” Eddie hummed. He did a half twirl and blew past Richie, backwards and on one foot. 

“Oh, I’d love to show you trouble,” Richie laughed. “But instead; pee break. I’ll be right back after these brief messages from our sponsors.” He saluted Eddie with a grin and blew him a kiss, skating over to the exit of the rink and climbing out awkwardly, all long legs. Eddie watched Richie go and spun, moving back towards Bill, Mike, and Stan. 

“Looking good out there, Eddie!” Bill grinned. “Why don’t we ever do this?”

“Because you both have to rent skates and they don’t usually have ones that fit Richie’s gigantic feet,” Eddie smiled. “And it’s pretty gross to have to rent skates in the first place.” 

Stan grimaced, wobbling. He struck his arm out past Mike and grabbed the railing at the edge of the rink. “Okay. I’m done.” 

“No, Stan,” but Mike was laughing when Stan silenced him with a wave of his hand. 

“Be lovebirds out there, that’s fine,” he said, irritated, but an impish smile was teasing at the corner of his lips. “Just don’t forget I exist.”

“Here,” Eddie laughed. “I’ll help you,” he took Stan’s hands and stepped off of the rink, tugging the much taller man up and along with him. 

“Thanks,” Stan grumbled. He sat and tugged off his skates. Eddie untied his and toed them off neatly, lifting them by their laces. “Eddie, you really don’t have to sit out here with me. I’m honestly happy to just watch Mike and Bill.”

“No, I mean,” Eddie shrugged with a smile. “Watch them, then, and I’ll go and get us some waters and let Richie know we’re sitting for a second.” Eddie set his skates down next to Stan when the taller man slid into the bleachers, his eyes fixed on his boyfriends. “Watch my skates?”

“You got it.”

Eddie walked off in his socks, darting into the men’s room. It was empty. He frowned and looked around when the door opened behind him and Richie walked in, blinking. “Eddie?”

“Hey,” Eddie said, surprised. 

“Had to make a call at the payphone before I went back on the ice,” Richie explained. He dipped his head and kissed Eddie, tapping his fingers restlessly over Eddie’s shoulders. “And I saw you come looking and I thought; sweet smooching opportunity, thy name is a public men’s restroom.”

Eddie laughed. He sifted both hands through Richie’s curls and Richie pressed him back against the wall, a cocksure grin on his lips. “Who were you calling?”

“…Jesse,” Richie said. He nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s. “Had to remind him what time the show is tonight.”

“He didn’t know?” Eddie frowned but sighed when Richie pressed their lips together. He hiked Eddie’s frame up against the wall and Eddie parted his lips, his eyes closed, and just let himself be kissed. “Richie.”

“Eddie,” Richie answered. “You taste so fucking delicious, babe.” He trailed hot kisses down the side of Eddie’s neck and Eddie whimpered, melting into his lover’s arms. “God, the things that I want to do to you--“

The door creaked opened behind Richie and both boys blanched, whipping around. Stan stood in the doorway, his eyebrows raised, Eddie’s skates in his hands.

“I just…I just need to piss,” Stan groaned. “Seriously, is nothing sacred?”

* * *

“My stop, gentlemen,” Richie announced with a triumphant smirk. The five of them were standing in front of The Underground, Richie’s favorite place in all of Seattle. It was a large, homey club, with a huge stage dominating the back half of the inside of the building, and a pretty thick crowd of people milling around the outside, waiting to be carded and let in.

“You’re really playing here tonight?” Mike said, looking at the warm, heavily populated facade. “That’s amazing, Rich.”

“Yeah. I mean, we play around Washington a lot really, all over. They love us here. We have shows coming up in Oregon and Cali in the spring, too.”

“On New Year’s Eve?” 

“They’re p-popular,” Bill said, tucked safely underneath Mike’s arm. “And really, really good.”

“So,” Stan said. “These are the same people that you played with years ago? You’ve been together all this time?”

“Hell yeah, man,” Richie nodded, lighting up a cigarette. “Jesse and Lettie are my main peeps. And Alex, too, he’s okay. He’s new on the keys. You know what keyboarders are like.”

“Boy, don’t we,” Stan said, rolling his eyes. He crammed his hands into his pockets. “Do we really have to wait out here for you to finish that thing?”

Richie laughed. “No, by all means, boys; go inside. We’ve gotta meet backstage anyway.” Richie grabbed Eddie as he made to follow the other men inside. “Spaghetti, hey.”

“Sorry,” Eddie smiled sheepishly. “Got distracted by the cold.”

“C’mere,” Richie said. He leaned in and kissed Eddie softly. “Mmmn. Be by the stage at midnight?”

“Why?”

“Because I want to kiss you on New Year’s Eve, at midnight, because…you’re my boyfriend?” Richie squinted at Eddie. “Is that alright?”

“We’ll see how many times you call me ‘Spaghetti’ before midnight,” Eddie said. He leaned against his boyfriend; in the snow and under the streetlights, Richie looked unrealistically beautiful, like he was sculpted out of marble. He looked down at Eddie and smiled crookedly, and Eddie felt his heart race. “Richie?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I love you,” Eddie said. “I just…I love everything about you. So fucking much, okay?”

Richie was quiet for a moment. He stubbed out his cigarette against the building and lifted Eddie up into his arms, hugging him tightly. Eddie wrapped his arms around Richie’s neck and his legs around his waist; his eyes squeezed shut against the cold night. 

“Everything I do, I do for you, or because of you, or to make you smile,” Richie whispered. “I love you too, you punk ass little midget.” 

“Hold me like this for a minute,” Eddie whispered back, and Richie did. They swayed in the freezing air, clasped tight in each others’ arms. 

“I’m sorry,” Richie said abruptly, his voice thick with emotion. “God, Eddie, I’m so _sorry_.”

“What?” Eddie said, pressing his cheek to Richie’s. “What’s the matter?”

“I--“ Richie cut himself off with a shiver. “I…paid your tuition late. Just ran a little behind on the bill, with buying tickets for Mike and Stan. You might get a letter in the mail, but I don’t want you to worry, okay? I have the receipt in our room, s’all good.” 

“Sure,” Eddie said softly, blinking. “No, I. Thanks for telling me, I would have freaked out if I got that in the mail.”

“I know,” Richie said, a smile in his voice. “Kiss me.” Eddie turned his head and met Richie’s lips with his own. His eyes closed as they kissed, and time seemed to stand still. Eventually, though, it had to end and Richie put him down. “See you inside?” 

“Always,” Eddie smiled briefly and went inside; behind him, Richie stayed outside and lit another cigarette. 

* * *

“Is everything okay with you guys?” Stan asked Eddie. They were standing at the bar together while Mike and Bill went to find a table. Onstage, Richie and his band were jamming, and the crowd in front of them was massive and exuberant. “Everything going good?”

“With me and Richie?” Eddie said. He waved absently at the bartender, and was diligently ignored. “Yeah, of course. You mean, couple wise? We’re good. Fine.”

Stan rolled his eyes and stretched out next to Eddie. He shoved two fingers into his mouth and whistled, sharply. The three bartenders and half of the patrons turned to look at him, scandalized.

“Very Los Angeles of you,” Eddie said. Stan smirked.

“Yeah, well, it gets the job done.” A stocky bartender hustled over to them, frazzled. “A gin and tonic and…?”

“A vodka tea--“

“--And a bud light, and, I don’t know. Another vodka tea, I guess. Bill will like that,” The bartender looked at Stan for a long, hard second and walked away to make their drinks. “How’s it going for you, personally?”

“Very good,” Eddie smiled. “I’m an early candidate for a combined Masters-Doctorate six year program. Psychology, with an emphasis on reaching gay kids or teaching an inclusive curriculum, you know. A passion project for me.” 

“I know a lot of nerds, but I can’t think of anybody else who would refer to a doctoral program as a ‘passion project’.”

“Haha, funny. How about you?” 

“Good, good. I’m transferring to Atlanta in the fall.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “Seriously? Why?”

Stan leaned on the bar for a moment in thoughtful silence. He looked at Eddie seriously. “I hate LA. I _hate_ it there, more than I’ve ever hated anything else. It’s dirty. The people are rude. And Ziegler is…strict. Conservative. I can’t really be myself there.”

“I’m glad you’re getting out then- ah, thank you,” Eddie gratefully accepted his drink from the bartender, setting down a little cash. Stan paid for the other three beverages. “It’s important to go where you’re comfortable.”

Stan nodded. He stirred his gin for a moment and sipped, in no obvious hurry to get back to their table. “Has…Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, anything.”

“Is...fuck, I don’t know. Is Richie _okay_?”

“What?” Eddie furrowed his brows. “Is he okay? I mean, he’s always at work and never at home. But other than being tired, yeah, he’s fine.”

“Bill didn’t see anything wrong either,” Stan admitted. “But Mike and I…he’s not…he isn’t the Richie we remember.”

“How so?” Eddie asked quietly. Somewhere in his brain, he resonated with Stan’s line of reasoning, with his questions. He swished his glass nervously.

“Well, first of all, he’s practically wasting away.”

“It’s stress,” Eddie rushed out. “Like I said, he never sleeps, really. And…it…kills his appetite.”

Stan raised both of his eyebrows. “Richie’s appetite? I once watched him eat two large pizzas in forty-five minutes. During finals week, in the tenth grade. He’s never _full_.”

“That was what, eight years ago? Things change, he has so many responsibilities--“

“Yeah, I get it, he works hard, blah blah, but it’s not like him--“

“You know what,” Eddie said, brightly. He turned a blinding, too-wide smile onto Stan, and Stan frowned. “Maybe if you tried calling, or writing, or fucking giving a shit before you march back into my life and tell me how to take care of my boyfriend, I’ll take your advice more seriously, okay?”

Stan looked at a loss for two moments and then he blinked into a scowl, recovering himself. “Yeah, fuck you too, Eddie.” He stormed back to their table and Eddie watched after him for a minute, livid, before turning his eyes up to Richie.

Richie looked elated on stage, perfect, slotted directly into his element. He was talented, absolutely, and a showman like no other person that Eddie had ever met. Eddie watched his boyfriend belt out the lyrics to one of the band’s original songs; he shared a microphone with Jesse, their bassist, and Eddie wished suddenly that he had just followed Stan, that he could miss the way that they smiled at one another, how close their lips were. Richie absently ran a hand up and over the neck of Jesse’s bass and Jesse patted the curve of Richie’s hip and squeezed, brief but firm. 

Eddie felt his stomach drop past his feet while he watched Richie rock his hips and swing his head, singing low and purposefully into the microphone, the crowd shrieking for him. He stood by the bar for several songs, watching and feeling aimlessly anxious. For the first time, Richie’s velvet voice in his ears did nothing to soothe him.

“Alright, wow,” Richie spoke into his microphone after several more songs, voice hoarse with exertion and a beaming smile on his face. “You guys are amazing!” The crowd roared and Richie laughed. “So we’re gonna take a little break, find some people to smooch, and we’ll be back after midnight. Happy New Year!” The crowd was deafening; Richie blew them all kisses and bowed, slinging his guitar as he walked towards backstage. Eddie watched him slap Jesse’s ass and fist bump Alex before his lifted Lettie up in a tight hug, ignoring her protests as and fierce shoulder punches. 

Eddie slugged back the rest of his drink and wiped his mouth. He looked around; Mike, Bill and Stan were huddled together at their table. They looked soft, and romantic, and very much like they didn’t miss him at all. Perfect.

Eddie climbed up onto the stage and slid behind the curtains, sneaking towards the back, where he knew the green room would be. He looked over his shoulder and turned, running smack dab into a broad, warm wall of a person. 

“Ah!” Lettie gasped. “Eddie! Wow, I’m sorry, didn’t see you!”

“No,” Eddie grimaced, clutching his heart. “My bad, but I think I’ll make up for it by losing five years off of my life.”

“You sneaky boy,” Lettie laughed, a little breathlessly. She patted her chest and then ran her fingers back through her striking teal hair. “Looking for your boo thing? Getting a little midnight nookie?”

Eddie flushed, but nodded. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing looking for Richie. He only knew that he’d suddenly been overcome with the urge to hold him, to reassure himself; but of what? “Is he around?”

“I saw him heading back towards the green room with Jesse and Alex, but he might have gone outside for a smoke,” Lettie ruffled Eddie’s hair and walked past him. “Take your guess and good luck!” 

Eddie watched her go before rushing to the backstage door. It was propped open with a little block of wood and when he opened it, it moved soundlessly. Richie was outside with no coat, a cigarette held in one long, pale hand. He stood in front of a man almost as tall as he was; the stranger was fully bundled up against the winter cold, the edge of his blue scarf blowing in the freezing wind. He leaned in close to Richie, tilting his head to whisper in his ear and Richie nodded, extending his hand. The stranger took it, linking their fingers, and Eddie watched Richie’s full lips stretch in a smile, watched him laugh. The man squeezed Richie’s shoulder, his fingers rubbing flesh through the threadbare t-shirt, and Eddie felt his observations click into place with an astounding, awful clarity; Richie wasn’t working all night, and he wasn’t stressed. Richie was having an _affair_.

His realization felt like tunnel vision. _How_? Richie Tozier loved him, and Eddie loved him right back. It was their whole story, dammit, the undercoat beneath the fabric of their lives. What had Richie said-- 

_I love you. Almost since the day I met you._

\--it was simply true of them. So how? 

He tried to put the thought out of his mind, to ignore the crushing and rapidly all encompassing idea of Richie’s infidelity, but as soon as it blossomed in his mind, he couldn’t be rid of it. It went from a notion to a dreaded thought to a truth in under thirty seconds. It felt like oil in his throat; it felt fatal.

Eddie fled. He worked his way back into the throng of people in the body of the club, his chest tight. When midnight came around and everybody kissed, he saw Richie’s distinctly curly head at the edge of the stage, waiting, and avoided him like the plague.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all; first off, if you live in the US, Happy Thanksgiving. I hope you're enjoying your night, however you chose to spend it, and I hope that you know that I'm thankful for each and every one of you.
> 
> This was a very difficult chapter for me to write. Tbh, all of part five is tough. I know it's also a little tough to read. I just want y'all to keep in mind that every relationship is subject to its own struggles, and its own ups and downs. Richie and Eddie have a lot of work to do to stay together, and to come back stronger than they started. <3 There's always rain before rainbows. This is only part five out of an eight part series and there's a lot of growth left for these guys.
> 
> Love y'all and many thanks. The next chapter will be up in a few days.
> 
> xoxoxoxo  
> waxagent


	3. Under The Bridge

Eddie was alone when he woke up on the first day of 1998. He laid on his back for a long time, in silence, the space behind his eyeballs burning. He was trying to avoid thinking about Richie, to wonder about his paper, to think about anything else, anything at all, but his thoughts--

_Richie, smiling at somebody else, bent over behind somebody else, sleeping next to somebody else, inside of somebody else Richie RichieRichieRi--_

He moaned and covered his face with shaking hands. The clues were so painfully _obvious_ when he looked back; didn’t they always say that hindsight was twenty/twenty? Richie really hadn’t done a very good job of covering his tracks; his sheer exhaustion, his never coming home, and what had he said, just last night--

_“I’m so fucking sorry, Eddie.”_

\--like he had been on the verge of confessing, of spilling his heart out onto the pavement for his boyfriend, his lover, his fucking _partner_. Shit. 

_What can they give him_ , Eddie thought, tears rolling out from underneath his hands, _that I can’t. What can they do for him that I can’t._

 _It’s head_ , a voice in the back of Eddie’s head whispered, cajoling in its sympathy. It sounded painfully like his mother. _They’re blowing him, honey, you know that you don’t do it enough and you always choke, such a delicate boy and you gag so easy. Or maybe it’s somebody self sufficient, somebody who he doesn’t have to pay for everything for, a real man--_

“Shut up,” Eddie hissed, grinding the heels of his palms against his closed eyes. “Shut up.”

“You talkin’ to me?” Eddie whipped up, startled, a hand over his heart; Richie was blinking in the doorway in his boxers and a sweatshirt, two steaming mugs in his hands. “Hey, hey, hey now,” Richie rushed over to the bed, setting both mugs down on the nightstand. He jumped into the bed and pulled Eddie tightly into his arms. “Why are you crying baby, what hap--“

“I’m _fine_ ,” Eddie pushed Richie back. He wiped at his face, frustrated. Richie looked startled, his lips parted and his brows furrowed. He was showered already and Eddie hated how amazing he smelled, how soft his thin face looked when he wore his contacts. 

“O…Kay…” Richie said slowly. “Whatever, I brought you some hot cocoa. This icy hellhole is no place for orange juice,” He reached out with a tentative hand and stroked Eddie’s soft hair. “I missed you yesterday,” he said softly. “At midnig--“

“I’m not thirsty.”

Richie gave him a funny look. “You sure you’re okay?” He reached out to touch Eddie’s cheek and Eddie batted his hand away.

“I said I’m _fine_ ,” Eddie spat. “So you don’t need to put your frigid hands all the fuck over me.”

“Woah, nelly,” Richie mumbled. “Sorry I bothered.” He stood up and pulled on a pair of jeans. “I’m gonna head to rehearsal early if you’re in a pissy mood. You still coming later?”

“Maybe.”

“Wow,” Richie laughed softly, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. Enjoy your drink,” he paused for a moment with his hand on the door. “Love you,” he added before leaving, closing their door behind him with a gentle snap.

Eddie buried his face into the pillows. 

* * *

Eddie did end up at Richie’s dress rehearsal, with Mike, Stan, and Bill in tow. The theater was half full with family, loved ones, and friends of the cast. Towards the back of the house, Eddie saw Richie’s band, and he hated himself entirely for the sick, green wave of envy that washed over him when he looked at Jesse and Lettie. He wondered if it was one of them, too, or both of them, somebody he knew, or--

“Hey,” Mike mumbled to him. Eddie turned to face his friend. “Come to the bathroom with me? I don’t know where it is.”

“I don’t either. I’ve never been here.” 

“Perfect, we’ll find it together,” Mike grabbed Eddie’s hand and hauled him out of the aisle, practically dragging him out of the theater. When they got into the deserted foyer, Mike let him go and turned to him with a heavy frown.

“Okay,” he said to Eddie, his voice low and very soft. “Want to share with me what’s going on?”

“No, I don’t,” Eddie said, flushed. “There’s nothing going on.”

Mike smiled lightly. “Which is it; no, you don’t want to share, or there’s nothing going on?”

“Neither,” Eddie snapped. “Or both. Pick whatever one you’d like.”

“Eddie, list--“

“No, Mike, YOU listen; just because you can have a perfect relationship with Stan and Bill doesn’t mean the rest of us are blessed with the _ease_ and the grace that you all are. Some of us have to actually try--“

“I forgot them,” Mike interrupted. Eddie’s mouth, open and still streaming through his tirade, snapped shut abruptly. “Before you called, I had almost forgotten all about Bill, and about Stan. You and Richie too, as a matter of fact. And when you called me five months ago, it was like…it all came rushing back. How much I love them. How I’d do anything for them. I did everything that I could to remember after that, I wrote down _every single thing_ I could remember, but I mixed up so many details; did Bill like to be called Billy? What color were Stan’s eyes? I used to think about his eyes every day, Eddie, and suddenly I couldn’t remember if they were blue, or brown, or green,” Mike cut himself off, rubbing his hands over his face. 

“Mike--“

“I felt _ashamed_ ,” Mike whispered hoarsely. “When you called me, I felt disgusting, and embarrassed, and so sick. I thought about hanging up on you and not coming, to be honest.” He dropped his hands and looked at Eddie. “We’re not _blessed_ , and it isn’t easy. I want to work at it harder, everyday that I’m alive, because they’re counting on me. That’s all. That’s the magic behind us.”

“Oh,” Eddie whispered, voice trembling. Mike opened his arms and Eddie rushed into his embrace, holding him tightly. “I’m so sorry, Mike--“

“You didn’t know,” Mike said. He pet Eddie’s hair. “They don’t know, either. But I feel like knowing...it can help you.” Eddie nodded. “Now that I’ve encouraged you to set aside your bullshit with some of my own bullshit…do you want to talk?”

“It’s Richie,” Eddie said. He stepped back and wiped his teary eyes. “I…he’s…”

“Go on.”

“But if I say it, it makes it real.”

“It’s real, Eddie, either way,” Mike cupped Eddie’s cheek and the smaller man shook his head, steadfast. 

“I can’t,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.” 

“When you’re ready,” Mike said. “You have me, you _always_ have me.” Eddie nodded, and Mike took him into his arms again. They stayed that way past the opening song, until Eddie nodded again, steadied. They walked back into the theater together, hand in hand.

* * *

“Jesus Christ,” Stan whispered after Richie finished belting out ‘One Song Glory’. “He’s actually amazing.” He realized his words with a flush and a grimace and looked over at Bill. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

“Nobody will blow you in, baby,” Mike said softly. He smiled at Stan and then turned soft, concerned eyes onto Eddie.

Eddie shrugged at him with a weak smile. Even from the center of his anger, Eddie couldn’t say that Richie was a bad actor. He rocked the stage in his musical just as he did in his band, and there was something about his portrayal of Roger that was so honest and endearing that Eddie felt himself crying long before the finale; as much he wanted to scream and rage and rail against his boyfriend, god dammit, he wanted to see Roger _win_ in the end. 

“It looked like they just let him wear his own clothes,” Stan whispered to Eddie. “He’s so raggedy.”

“I don’t know which Richie you’re talking about,” Eddie whispered back with a stilted smile. “But Rich Tozier doesn’t own a single article of clothing in _mustard yellow_.” 

Stan chuckled. He took Eddie’s hand lightly in his own. “Sorry,” he said, looking at the stage. “For last night.”

“Me too,” Eddie said roughly. He wiped his face stubbornly and laid his head on Stan’s shoulder. Stan kissed the top of Eddie’s head absently. Beyond Stan and Mike, Eddie caught Bill looking at him with a strange, concerned expression. He shot their leader a little smile and Bill turned back to the stage, a frown pulling down his mouth. 

Eddie couldn’t take his eyes off of Richie, his scenes were so powerful and morbid. He was so deep in character that he barely even resembled the man that Eddie loved. Richie as Roger walked with a defensive, slumped posture, and his smiles didn’t reach his eyes. Eddie watched Richie’s hands cup Mimi’s face, watched Richie kiss the daylights out of her, and, amazingly, shockingly, he did not feel jealous. He felt _proud_. 

He watched Richie sing about Mimi’s eyes and he felt his heart clench and race. “ _How’d I let you slip away, when I’m longing so to hold you_ ,” Richie wailed, holding onto Mimi over a bare tabletop, and Eddie felt a sob catch him by surprise. He covered his mouth while he cried and Stan wrapped an arm around him, pressing another kiss into his hair. Mike reached over Stan’s lap and squeezed Eddie’s knee. “ _Now I’d die for one more day, because there’s something I should have told you_.” 

After the finale, the audience erupted into applause while the actors took their bows. Richie was the second to last up. He curtsied and the crowd just exploded, standing and cheering. Bill was with them, whistling around his fingers and applauding. Eddie felt heavy as he stood, clapping, and he felt weak when Richie caught his eye from the stage and beamed. 

They regrouped in the lobby; Richie walked out with some of the other members of the cast, laughing, his face clean and glowing. He ran past them when he saw Eddie and grabbed his boyfriend, lifting him up and spinning him. 

“You came,” he whispered, and kissed Eddie. 

Eddie felt himself recoil for a split second and then he was kissing Richie back, lips parted in surrender, the taste of tobacco and mouthwash lighting his senses on fire. “I did,” Eddie murmured. “You were great. Amazing.”

“Thank you,” Richie turned his head; his castmates were introducing themselves to Bill, Mike and Stan. Richie looked at Eddie and carried him into an adjacent hallway, mostly deserted, and pressed Eddie against a wall. He kissed his lover again, hungrily, and bit his bottom lip. “Thank you,” Richie repeated, eyes clear and bright without his glasses to conceal them. “For coming, Eddie, it means everything in the world to me.”

Eddie just nodded, his hands absently toying with Richie’s curls. “I wouldn’t miss it,” he said, honestly. 

Richie paused for a long moment. He pressed Eddie more fully against the wall, supporting him with his hips and his hands. “What’s going on?” He asked softly, his eyes searching Eddie’s. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me, Eddie.”

“Nothing, Rich--“

“You’re an awful liar,” Richie said. He brought one hand up and cupped Eddie’s cheek, soothing his thumb over the other man’s tear-stained cheek. “Don’t tell me all of this is from the show. We aren’t that good.”

“You are, really.”

“Eds--“

“I just,” Eddie sniffled. “I can’t…I d-don’t want to lose you.”

“What?” Richie furrowed his brows. “Baby, sweetheart, you’re not--“

“Don’t!” Eddie shook his head wildly, feeling oddly threatened by Richie’s shocked face and his kind eyes. “ _Please_ , Richie, I can’t do this right now, please, just…”

“Okay,” Richie held him even tighter, pressing Eddie’s face into his neck. “It’s okay, God, I swear I’ll never leave you. You’re my whole world.”

“Then why--“

“Hey, Richie,” both men whipped around. A tall, absolutely gorgeous woman stood at the mouth of the hallway. Eddie recognized her as the actress who played Mimi. “Oh…Oh man, am I interrupting?”

“Carmen,” Richie said. Eddie shivered in his arms and he held his boyfriend a little tighter. “Now’s not a good--“

“It’s just,” Carmen shrugged, looking a little lost and more than a little awkward. “Your friends, they’re looking for you. And the rest of us are heading to that party at Jamie’s friend’s bar…we…were you still coming?” 

Eddie wiggled out of Richie’s arms and landed on his feet with a soft grunt. “Let’s go,” he mumbled. “Come on, Rich.”

“I can stall for time if you guys are fighting,” Carmen said. Eddie glared at her sharply and she took a hasty step back. “I mean, or, if you need to talk something out.”

“Yeah--“

“ _No_ ,” Eddie said harshly. “We’re fine.”

Carmen grimaced and nodded, walking backwards out of the hall. “I’ll…tell them you’re coming along.”

“Eds,” Richie cupped Eddie’s cheek and turned his face towards him. “What--“

Eddie slapped Richie’s hand away. “Don’t call me that,” he spat, and stormed away.

* * *

The party was loud, raucous, and in a bar that Eddie hated from the top of his head to the soles of his snowboots. It was dirty and dark and loud, and smelled a little bit like vinegar and stale beer. None of this mattered to him, however, as he slapped a five dollar bill down on the counter and signaled for another drink. It was all just seasoning to the shit stew of his day.

“Hey,” a new bartender greeted him, tying her apron on; shift change. “What’ll it be?”

“Your,” Eddie paused, trying to organized his drink-muddled mind. “Your cheapest, shittiest vodka. And your strongest iced tea.”

“Okay, no problem. ID?”

“I already gave my card to the other guy,” Eddie grumbled, fishing around in his wallet. “I’m twenty-fucking-three. I’m four drinks deep. If I’m underage you have bigger fucking problems.”

“It’s the law,” the girl said apologetically. She took Eddie’s ID, read it, and handed it back with a smile. “You just have kind of a baby face is all.”

Eddie took his ID back and fixed the bartender with a heated glare. “How about that? I didn’t fucking ask you.” She snapped her mouth shut and turned away without further comment, mixing Eddie’s drink. She handed it to him without any words, though her eyes clearly told him “ _I hope you choke on this_ ”. 

Eddie kind of hoped he did too. 

He slid around on his barstool; the bar was packed, but it was easy to spot Richie. He was dancing with one of his castmates, laughing and stumbling. He was a sloppy party-drunk, and it was something that Eddie normally took with a grain of salt and a benevolent smile. Tonight, drunk and suspicious of everybody that Richie looked at, he hated it. 

Sighing, Eddie grabbed his drink and took a large swallow. It slid down his throat light lighter fluid and tasted about as pleasant. He watched Richie beam into the face of the man that he was dancing with. He tapped a long finger to the side of his nose and winked, leading the other man towards the bathroom with a hand around his wrist. Eddie felt his chest tighten and he wished, for the first time in _years_ , for his inhaler. 

His eye caught on something else; Bill was waving at him from across the floor. Mike and Stan were dancing and Bill patted the spot next to him on the ancient couch in the corner of the bar. Eddie waved him off. Bill patted the spot again, insistently, and Eddie turned away from him. He wanted to be alone.

It wasn’t long before he felt hands on his shoulders and lips on his hair, and he turned around; Richie was kissing the top of his head, his chest pressed against Eddie’s back.

“Babes,” Richie mumbled, nuzzling his face into Eddie’s hair. “Okay?”

Eddie rolled his shoulder to try to get away from Richie but the other man wouldn’t relent. “That was a quickie,” Eddie mumbled, running his finger around the mouth of his glass. “Even by your standards.”

“Wha’?”

“I said ‘get off of me’,” Eddie glowered. “You’re freezing.”

“So…warm me up?” Richie said. He turned the bar stool around and swayed in front of Eddie, smiling. His eyes were glassy and his smile was wide and beatific. “Come hang out with me, baby, I’m such a fourth wheel to Stan and Billy and Mike--“

“If you’re too drunk to talk to your other friends,” Eddie cut in. “You can always _go home_.”

Richie’s brows furrowed. “Other friends?” He trailed an absent finger over Eddie’s jawline, and Eddie slapped his hand away. “You’re my _boyfriend_ , king of all friends. Why wouldn’t I--“

“You really have NO idea, do you?” Eddie snorted. “What are you, twelve drinks in? And that probably brings your actual daily total up to fifteen? Eighteen? You know, I know how you take your morning coffee,” he sipped at his nearly empty drink coolly. “I can’t even imagine what you get up to backstage.” 

His words must have hit some sort of emotional mark in Richie, because the taller man let Eddie go, stumbling back. He was blinking rapidly like Eddie had smacked him instead of scolded him, his eyes wide and dark, and Eddie felt savagely good about it. 

“Why…” Richie wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Why are you talking to me like this? What’d I _do_ , Eddie?” 

“Y’know what you did,” Eddie grit out. For the very first time, all day, he wasn’t sad, or anxious; he was angry. Righteously fucking angry. How _dare_ Richie drag some goon into the bathroom in front of him, smiling that salacious fucking smile, get his rocks off and come back here to Eddie. Fuck _him_.

Richie nodded, swaying absently, and boy, he really was drunk. His hair was messy and his eyes kept losing their mark, sliding away from Eddie and then snapping back to him in a clear attempt to regain focus. When he did manage to keep his gaze on Eddie, something burned in his expression that made Eddie want to punch him. “Apologize.”

“ _What_?” 

“Say you’re sorry to me,” Richie said loudly. “You cuh-can’t _talk_ to me like that, _I’m_ a _person_ , Eddie. You left me on New Years Eve an-and I want a sorry.”

“You want an apology?” Eddie stumbled to the floor off of the stool and looked up at Richie, his jaw set. He felt like he was spinning, suddenly, but it didn’t occur to him to think about the fact that maybe Richie wasn’t the only drunk one out of the two of them. “How’s this for an apology?” He yanked Richie close, hands fisted in his curls, and had to brace himself back against the bar when Richie nearly toppled over. 

“Ow,” Richie hissed, and Eddie leaned up and whispered sharply in his ear. 

“I know,” he said, his voice warbling. “I know _everything_.” Richie’s hands clutched at his shoulders, but Eddie couldn’t stop. “I know everything you’ve been doing you piece of _shit_.” 

Richie shoved Eddie away by his shoulders and stumbled back, eyes wide and horrified. He looked over his boyfriend’s face and found nothing there. Broken looking, he whispered, “You’re an asshole, Eddie,” and turned, storming away through the crowd. 

“Fuck you too!” Eddie shouted. He turned back to the bar and signaled for the bartender. 

“Hey,” Eddie whipped around, a spiteful retort on his brain, but he died on his lips. It was Richie’s blonde costar, the man who played Mark. He was smiling nervously, tapping a finger on the bar. “You okay? That looked pretty bad.”

Eddie squinted. “None of your business.”

The blonde laughed. “Alright, alright, so,” he held out a hand. “Jaime Canton.”

“Eddie Kaspbrak,” Eddie mumbled. After a second, with a grimace, Jamie lowered his hand. 

“Um, can I buy you a drink?”

“What?”

“A drink,” Jaime asked, not unkindly. His hand scooted closer to Eddie’s over the top of the bar. “Can I buy you one?”

“Sure,” Eddie said, shrugging. “Why not?”

“Okay, cool,” Jamie smiled. He tapped the bar with one hand and Eddie heard him asking something of the bartender, but he was only half paying attention. Across the bar, Richie had grabbed his coat and shoved it under his arm. He looked over once at Eddie and Eddie scowled and flipped him off. Lips pursed, Richie stormed out of the back of the bar. 

“So, you’re Richie’s boyfriend,” Jaime asked. He slid Eddie over a new drink and Eddie took it, drinking a third of it in one sip. 

“S’right,” Eddie grumbled. “Why? Gonna tell me how great he is?”

Jaime laughed. “No, no, to be honest; he kind of annoys me.”

“Right?” Eddie groaned. “Thank God.” He held up his glass and Jaime met it with his own. “A toast!”

“To?”

“To…” Eddie squinted. “I have nothing to toast, so.” He shrugged and took another sip of his drink, smiling at Jaime over the rim of his glass. “Y’like acting?”

“I do, very much,” Jaime sized Eddie up with a quick up-down of his eyes. “What do you do?”

“School, mostly, tutoring.”

“Ever have fun?”

“What?” Eddie spread his arms with a tilt to his head. “This isn’t fun?”

“I stand super corrected,” Jaime grinned. “Finish your drink real quick, I’ll get you another.”

“Thanks,” Eddie slugged back the rest of his drink while Jaime watched him, wiping his bottom lip with the tip of his thumb. “So, when you’re backstage, does- does Richie ever…what does he _do_?”

Jaime looked over Eddie’s face and if Eddie were sober, he’d recognize the look of somebody calculating out a set of odds. “Well,” Jaime swirled his drink, a little smirk on his lips. “He’s always going off with the other actors. Disappearing, I guess. For huge chunks of time.” 

“Mm,” Eddie sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose in one hand, his eyes squeezed shut. The wave of emotion that rolled over him was jumbled and confusing, and he had to steady himself for a moment before he could blink his eyes open. Jaime was still watching him. 

“It’s okay to be angry,” Jaime said. He settled his hand on Eddie’s knee and squeezed, his palm radiating warmth. 

Eddie looked up at Jaime. He sipped his drink and watched the blonde man’s smile widen. “Is it?” He asked.

“Is it what?” Jaime leaned in. 

“Okay t’feel the way I do,” Eddie mumbled. “I…I feel mad. And then I feel _guilty_.” 

“Of _course_ it is,” Jaime soothed, and Eddie nodded. “He hurt you, right?” Eddie nodded again, blinking rapidly, and Jaime touched his hair. When Eddie didn’t move, Jaime ran his hand back through his thick brown locks and he sighed out a small, sad sound. “Poor guy. You’re just so cute, I don’t understand how Tozier could do whatever he did to you. Guess…guess he hurt you pretty bad, huh?”

“Yeah,” Eddie whispered. He looked up; Jaime had moved very close and he stood in between Eddie’s perched legs, rubbing his scalp with his other hand on Eddie’s knee. “I told him off but he--“

“I bet he pretended like he didn’t even know what you were talking about,” Jaime said sympathetically and Eddie let his eyes close and leaned into his hand. Jaime’s thumb was rubbing slow, firm patterns in the skin above his knee and it felt _nice_. “Ignoring everything he did.”

“Well, y’saw.”

“Sure I did,” Jaime said. “I kept thinking, ‘How could he do that to Eddie?’.” 

“Mmn,” Eddie furrowed his brows and opened his eyes. Jaime’s lips pressed against his cheek and then his mouth; soft, insistent, and dry. 

“I always hated Tozier,” Jaime murmured against Eddie’s mouth. He kissed the smaller man again and Eddie, caught up in his drinks and his agony, kissed him back. “Everybody likes him except for me. He chews the scenery, attracts all the attention on stage. He gets the lead roles without even trying. Always doing blow in the dressing room and just pops out and performs like it’s _nothing_ \--“

“What?” Eddie pulled back and squinted, frowning. 

“Ssshh, nothing,” Jaime soothed him, re-attaching their lips. Eddie let himself be kissed again and felt _wrong_ in the action when he kissed back. He felt filthy when he parted his lips and Jaime licked against his tongue, but it felt _good_ , and he couldn’t _stop_ \-- 

It was the only kiss like this that he’d ever had, he realized, with somebody who wasn’t Richie. 

“Stop, wait,” Eddie pressed against Jaime’s chest. The other man sucked over Eddie’s bottom lip. “I don’t…I _can’t_.”

“You can, and I think you want to,” Jaime said sweetly. “I think you want to punish him.” He pressed a kiss into Eddie’s neck and Eddie shivered, letting out a sharp sound when Jaime sucked a deeper mark into his neck, teasing him with his teeth before he bit down harder. “I can _help_ you.”

“No,” Eddie said, firmly, and Jaime sighed and straightened up. 

“Even after everything he did?”

“T…” Eddie blinked and refocused. “Tell me, tell me what he did.” 

Jaime smiled, misunderstanding. He squeezed Eddie’s knee. “Whatever you think he did. I’ll say whatever you need to hear, Eddie.” 

Eddie felt rocked. “You lied,” he whispered, and confusion and wretched desperation boiled in his stomach and he _couldn’t take it back, it was done_ \--

“Eddie.” Eddie and Jaime leapt apart and Eddie snapped his legs shut. Bill was standing just over Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie felt shameful color rise in his cheeks because, in that moment, he knew one thing with a terrible clarity; Bill had _seen_. “We’re g-going. Are…” He fixed Jaime with a stern glare and when he looked back at Eddie, his eyes didn’t soften a bit. “You’re coming back with us.” It wasn’t a question.

“He’s fine with me--“

“That’s nice,” Bill cut Jaime off without even looking at him. “I wuh-wasn’t talking to you.”

“Take me home, Billy,” Eddie said. Something in that sentence shook Bill; Eddie saw it in the almost imperceptible widening of his blue eyes and the clench of his teeth. Just in that moment, Eddie felt a weird unreality wash over him--

_covered in sewer gunk and greywater and a little boy with one arm one arm one arm looked up at Bill, dirty and wretched and sad, and begged him and cried and did Bill- did he shoot him? Eddie couldn’t remember--_

\--but it must have been the six vodka teas because it passed as quickly as it came. “ _Please_ ,” he begged. 

“Where’s Richie?”

Eddie shook his head. “I dunno.”

“Eddie,” Bill said. He sighed and took Eddie’s shoulders in both hands. “Alright, come on.” His hands were firm but gentle as he tugged Eddie off of the barstool and onto the ground. Eddie wobbled. “Fix your coat, we’re going.” He helped Eddie re-tie his scarf and Eddie felt his him hesitate for a split second, one finger ghosting over the fresh hickey on his neck. 

“Hey man, you can’t make him leave--“ Jaime started, and he stopped and bent back when Bill rounded on him. 

“If you say one more _fucking_ thing to me, I’ll lay your ass out and I w-won’t feel the slightest bit bad about it,” Bill hissed. “He’s drunk. He’s _hurting_. You should be ashamed.” 

Jaime opened and closed his mouth twice. He looked Bill up and down; Bill maxed out at 5’10” and a hundred and sixty-five pounds. He was skinny, wrapped in a puffy down jacket, but Eddie knew, if push came to shove, that Big Bill Denbrough would eat Jaime Canton _alive_. Jaime must have known it too; he picked up his drink and ducked past Bill, his face puce and pinched. 

“Billy,” Bill ignored Eddie; he tightened the smaller man’s jacket and frog marched him out of the bar. “Bill, please--“

As soon as they were outside Bill turned Eddie around. “Shut up,” he said, and Eddie fell silent. “I’ve n-never been as angry in my life as I am at you right now.”

“It’s not your business-“

“It’s _absolutely_ my business,” Bill snapped at him. “You’re not going to ruin your whole life with a stranger because you and Richie had some stupid fight.” Eddie opened his mouth and Bill practically leapt out of his own skin, leaning forward to speak directly into Eddie’s face. “Don’t interrupt me. You’re being a selfish, _stupid_ idiot. I’ve never been more ashamed to know you.” 

Eddie, to his great and prolonged embarrassment, felt his eyes fill with tears. “You d-don’t understand--“

“I don’t want to.” Bill tightened his scarf. “You can maybe talk to me tomorrow when you’re sober, but I can barely stand to look at you right now,” Eddie huffed out a sob. “Don’t fucking cry at me, Eddie.” 

“I’m _s-sorry_ \--“

“Don’t apologize to me,” Bill said. “I’m not the one you need to apologize to.” 

“Bill,” Eddie hiccupped, wiping at his face. “B-Bill, I’m hurting t-too.”

Eddie watched Bill’s anger crumble and he hugged Eddie, fiercely and a little bit angrily. “You’re going to tell him,” Bill said and Eddie cried harder, his face buried in Bill’s shoulder. “You have to.”

“Why d-did I do that,” Eddie clutched Bill’s arm and Bill held him tighter. “Bill!” 

“I’m sorry,” Bill said, his voice gruff. He pet Eddie’s hair back into place from where Jaime had messed it up. “I sh-shu-shouldn’t have called you an idiot. You’re not an idiot.”

“I am!”

“Unfortunately, you’re n-not,” Bill sighed. He nudged Eddie back and grimaced when Eddie swayed dangerously in his arms. “You are v-very drunk.” He wiped away Eddie’s tears. “And not v-very rational. And you did a selfish, unbelie-e-evably stupid thing. But you aren’t selfish or an idiot--“

“He’s cheating on me,” Eddie blurted out, and a fresh wave of tears overtook him. “He’s h-having an affair, Bill.”

“What? _Richie_?”

“Who else?”

“Richie Tozier?” Bill’s brows were furrowed. “The same guy wh-who just last month said, and I quote, ‘my dick doesn’t get hard for anybody but Eds Kaspbrak’?” 

“It doesn’t _matter_ what he said, it matters what he did!” Eddie pushed back from Bill, wobbled, and stood his ground. “I _saw_ him, Billy. With my _eyes_. Last night, I…I--“

“Okay, okay,” Bill waved a hand. He had a dizzy, nauseous look about him. “We’ll g-go home, and…tomorrow, you have t-to talk. You can’t let this get any more out of hand.” Eddie nodded, wiping his face off with his scarf. 

“D’you think he’ll hate me?”

“I don’t know,” Bill answered honestly. “But I don’t think Richie has the stomach to really hate ah-anybody, least of all, you--“

“Guys,” Eddie turned around, still sniffling; Mike and Stan had exited the bar. They wore identical expressions of confusion. 

“We’re fine. Sorry to stick you both with the tab,” Bill cut them off. “Let’s go home.”

It was Stan’s idea to avoid the public transport system, and Eddie was grateful for it. In the state that he was in, wheels rolling underneath him were bound to be a disaster. He stuck close to Bill’s side and bundled up his resolve deep in the middle of his chest and by the time they reach their little walk up after almost two miles of walking in the frigid January night, Eddie feels closer to sober and, more importantly, closer to some semblance of rational thought. 

Bill unlocked the door and opened it, stepping aside to let the other three men in. Eddie kicked off his shoes, stumbling a little, and shot a mumbled thanks at Mike when he steadied him with big, warm hands. Stan undid his coat and helped him out of his scarf. Like Bill, his eyes fixed on the hickey on Eddie’s throat, too fresh to be from any day but today, but he glossed over it with an angry look and a tight mouth. 

“Get some water and aspirin,” Bill said. He looked at Eddie like he either wanted to hold him or throttle him, and the lack of distinction between the two notions made Eddie feel like it was closer to the latter. “Sort this out tomorrow.” His tone brokered no room for disagreement.

Eddie nodded and bowed his head, walking into his room with no preamble. He unbuckled his pants and yanked them down, tripped, and caught himself on Richie’s dresser. He climbed into bed, then, and saw Richie there, sleeping, his face buried in his own arms. There was a bottle of prescription painkillers on the nightstand that didn’t have his name on the label, and a garbage can in ready and waiting position off the side of the bed. 

Richie blinked when Eddie crawled into the bed, unfurling from his warm ball of sleep, and held out his arms. Eddie collapsed against his thin chest and breathed him in, clutched his shirt, and shivered. 

“We have to talk,” Eddie said. 

“Tomorrow,” Richie replied, and Eddie nodded. 

“Okay.” He held onto Richie and laid awake long after the other man fell back to sleep.

* * *

Eddie woke up to Richie’s fingers ghosting over the side of his neck. “Mmn,” He blinked and rubbed his eyes. Richie looks inscrutable across from him. “Morning, Rich.”

“It is,” Richie said softly. “It’s certainly a morning.” He leaned forward and kissed Eddie chastely. “What time did you tumble in last night?” 

“Late,” Eddie said. He kissed Richie back and Richie pulled away right after, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Richie?”

“Nothin’,” Richie said, sitting up. He rubbed his chest absently. “Sorry. I have terrible morning breath.”

“You’ve never cared about that,” Eddie said. He sat up next to his boyfriend. “Please look at me.” Richie did. “We have to talk.”

“Does this talk involve you telling me who gave you this?” Richie ghosted his fingers over a sensitive spot of Eddie’s neck and the smaller man sucked in a breath, Jaime Canton’s teeth on his throat rushing back to him in a tidal wave, making him feel sick to his stomach.

“Richie--“

“Don’t tell me it’s mine,” Richie said gently. “It’s not. I know the marks I leave on you.”

“It was at the bar, after you left,” Eddie admitted. He feels his face go hot and his eyes burn, but he looked at Richie throughout. “I…made a mistake. A huge mistake.”

“Boy,” and it was clear that even though Richie expected this to some degree, he was not prepared for it. “That’s the understatement of the century, Eddie.”

“I’m _so_ sorry,” Eddie said. “Richie-- Richie. Please,” He leaned into the taller man and took his face in between his hands. Richie didn’t resist, but there was something strong and dark in his eyes that Eddie had never seen before. “ _Please_. I’m so sorry, ‘Chee--“

“Do _not_ ,” Richie ground out. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Don’t fucking call me ‘Chee right now.”

“Okay,” Eddie whispered. He nodded, and he held Richie like a lifeline.

“Who was it?”

“Jaime Canton,” Eddie said. Richie snorted.

“Figures. That asshole hates my guts. I beat him out for my part. Did he,” Richie’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “Did he fuck you?”

“ _No_ , no baby,” Eddie flinched back from Richie’s sharp glare. “He kissed me. I…” the truth sat on his tongue and Richie was looking at him, expectant. “I let him. He kissed my neck--“

“He _mauled_ your neck.”

“--I stopped him after that.”

“That’s it? You promise?”

“Of course, of course,” Eddie’s shook his head. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“No, you’d just make out with a stranger in a bar because you’re mad at me.” Richie sucked his teeth and nodded. One of his hands found Eddie’s side and he touched him lightly, over his shirt. “What did I _do_ to you? What did I do that was so bad that I…that I caused this?” Richie’s face twisted and Eddie watched his chin quake with a dawning horror. He squeezed Eddie tightly and buried his face into the smaller man’s neck and his words start coming out in a rush, all at once. “I’m _sorry_ Eddie, you can stop punishing me, just tell me so I can fix it--“

“I saw you with the other guy,” Eddie whispered, holding Richie against him with every ounce of strength in his arms. “And I put everything together after that.”

“What?” Richie pulled back, frowning. His eyes were swimming. “What…what other guy?”

“New Year’s Eve, back of the club, he had on a blue scarf.” Eddie caught the tear that fell from the corner of Richie’s eye with a quick fingertip and his heart _hurt_. “I went looking for you and I saw you with him--“

“That’s my dealer,” Richie nudged Eddie’s hand away from his face and sat up. “You thought that I was cheating on you? That’s what you _think_ of me?”

“What?” Eddie looked up at Richie, eyes wide. “Your _what_ \--“

“Have I ever given you any indication that you aren’t everything to me, that I would ever look _anywhere_ else?”

“Your _dealer_ , Richie, what have you--“

“I’ve been in love with you since I was _ten_ , Eddie, you’re my _partner_ , shit, I--“

“Richie, Richie,” Eddie caught Richie’s face again and Richie grabbed his shoulders back, his fingers shaking. “What are you…dealer? You have a _dealer_?”

“Of course I do,” Richie said. “I’ve been using for, like, eight months, Eddie.”

“Oh,” Eddie said. His lips felt numb. He felt _filthy_. “So…”

“I’ve been using,” Richie said again. He rubbed his arms suddenly, looking gaunt and sad. “You thought I was blowing some rando? Wow. This would be funny if it wasn’t so sad.” Eddie couldn’t think of anything less funny if he’d tried. His ears were ringing and his mouth felt dry. 

“Wh-Wh….” Eddie licked his lips. His eyes were burning. He looked up into Richie’s vulnerable face and felt his throat lock up.

“Uppers, amphetamines, like, in diet pills,” Richie seemed to understand without Eddie having to ask. “Cocaine. Shit to keep me going, to get me through everything.”

“Your double shifts,” Eddie said. “Your…your practice, and rehearsal, and class, and you never eat--“

“I never need to,” Richie said softly. “Sleep, either, really. And I…when I drink, it like…brings me right back. So I can just keep going. It’s tough but I’ve got it under control.” 

“I don’t understand,” Eddie felt hot and cold all over. “I didn’t _know_ \--“

“Nobody did,” Richie said. “Well, you and Bill, at least. Everybody in the cast knows.” Eddie closed his eyes and tried to hide the hurt of that statement. “I knew you’d be upset so I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Of course I was worried, I just didn’t know why--“

“No need,” Richie murmured. He looked into Eddie’s eyes for a long moment. “I’m in control, okay? I can stop anytime I want to.” 

“Then stop right now,” Eddie said. “Please. Stop right now, for me.”

“Sure,” Richie said easily. He licked his bottom lip and looked away from Eddie, quickly, before looking back with a thin smile, and Eddie knew he was _lying_. “As soon as the run of the show is over, sure. In the springtime. Would that make you happy?”

“I guess,” Eddie said. He looked over Richie’s face and ran a small hand back through his wild hair. “I…you promise?”

“I’d do anything to make you happy,” Richie nodded. He pressed his forehead to Eddie, and Eddie waited for the affirmation of a promise. It didn’t come. 

“I’m so sorry,” Eddie croaked out. “Richie, you have to know, please--“

“I know,” Richie said quietly. “Please, just…not again, okay?” The resignation in his tone killed Eddie, took his lungs and wrenched them in between iron and merciless fingers. 

“I love you,” Eddie whispered. “I-I love you so much, Rich.”

“I know,” Richie repeated. “It’s okay, babe. It’s okay. We’re okay.” And Eddie wanted to believe him, but he felt on an island, all on his own, like Richie couldn’t be farther away, and ‘okay’ was the farthest thing from his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUY I AM A BIG PUDDLE OF SORRY. This, again, was just as hard for me to write as it was to read. Everybody makes bad decisions and goes through tough shit. Let's hope that Richie and Eddie can pull it together and come back to each other, better off than before. 
> 
> SO UH that's it for part five. Part six will be up in under a week so let's leave this sad place behind together, okay?? You feel me??
> 
> Part six will take place about three and a half years after this moment. 
> 
> Cheers, guys; I really do love you all. This is the hardest thing I've ever written, but hearing from you was unbelievably helpful in keeping me motivated. 
> 
> Next time comes soon,  
> xoxoxoxo  
> waxagent
> 
> PS; Yeah, Jaime Canton, fuck that guy, for real.

**Author's Note:**

> Eddie's worried, Bill is overjoyed, and Richie is not doing well: welcome to part five!
> 
> I apologize to everybody that's ever loved me for all of the ANGST herein, this is a sad one; grab your popcorn, grab a friend, and I'll hug you until the lights come back on. 
> 
> Hopefully chapter two will be up and running by the end of the week. :) Drop me a line and let me know how you're feeling, i promise, I can take it.
> 
> xoxoxoxo  
> AM


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